Tunnel Vision (5 page)

“I guess this means you’ve missed me,” Camille said as she savored Brodie’s exploration. “The steaks…”

“Can wait,” Brodie whispered. “The only thing I’m hungry for right now is you, baby.”

A SHAFT OF annoying sunlight across her face woke Brodie the next morning. For a moment she wasn’t sure the night before hadn’t been another dream. She rolled over and buried her face in the pillow next to her, inhaling the scent of the woman whose body had given her a safe haven from the nightmares that haunted her. She got out of bed and pulled on gray shorts and an old t-shirt before wandering into the bathroom to brush her teeth and throw water on her face. As she walked barefoot down the hall she didn’t hear anyone else in the house.

“Camille?” she called, but there was no answer. In the kitchen she was grateful to find fresh coffee in the coffee maker. Pouring a cup, she saw Camille on the back deck, drinking coffee and scratching Max’s ears. All she wore were bikini briefs and one of Brodie’s t-shirts. She stood at the kitchen window watching the woman for a few minutes, knowing she had used her to forget the past the night before.

“Good morning,” Camille said when she heard the back door open.

Brodie leaned down and kissed her. “You’re up early.”

“Max woke me. Guess he’d kept his legs crossed as long as he could stand it and you were dead to the world. Coffee okay?”

“It’s great, hon.”

“Ready for breakfast?”

“Sounds like a winner to me. I’m starving.”

Camille glanced at her over her coffee cup. “I thought you might be.” Standing, she stroked Brodie’s face on her way to the kitchen. “You were certainly a woman on a mission last night.”

“Was I successful?”

Camille looked down at Max and stroked his head. “I suppose that depends on what your mission was and your definition of successful,” she answered. Brodie watched her go, then looked at Max, thinking about her lover’s cryptic statement.

“Houston, I think I may have a problem.”

Camille was standing at the sink beating what appeared to be half a dozen eggs as Brodie refilled her coffee cup. She moved behind her and ran her hands around Camille’s waist and under the t-shirt, feeling the soft weight of her breasts fill her hands. She was everything Brodie should have wanted in a woman. Sensual…giving… understanding…willing. Why wasn’t it enough?

“I thought you were hungry, RB.”

“Starving,” she said as her body responded again to the feel of Camille’s warmth against her. Turning to face her, Camille’s hands wandered down the back of Brodie’s shorts as they kissed.

“Breakfast first, darlin’,” Camille finally whispered.

“I wouldn’t want you to run out of strength.”

Brodie smiled and released her with a quick kiss. Maybe the niggling feeling that something was wrong was nothing more than a remnant of a long week. While she waited for Camille to finish the eggs she went into the living room and opened the front door to retrieve the morning paper. By the time she returned, a steaming plate of scrambled eggs was next to her coffee cup and Camille was buttering toast.

“Anything worthwhile in the news today?” she asked.

“Are you kidding? This is the
Cedar Springs
Journal
, not the
New York Times
,” Brodie chuckled.

“Not much news?”

“Nicholls and I are working a case we caught a couple of nights ago. I wanted to see if the local reporters know something we don’t. Like who the guy was.”

“What kind of case is it?”

“Looked like a simple traffic accident at first, but now it looks like it might have been a homicide. We’ve just started our investigation. Maybe we’ll be able to ID the guy Monday, if we get lucky.”

Camille sat down across from her and picked up a forkful of eggs. “How do you feel about working with Maggie again?” she asked, her tone casual. Brodie’s toast stopped halfway to her mouth and she looked up at her quickly. “How do you know that?”

“After I let Max out this morning I was in the living room and saw a folder on the floor, so I picked it up. I wasn’t trying to be nosey, but I did see the first page.”

They ate in silence until both had finished their breakfast. “Well?” Camille asked.

“Well what?” Brodie replied with noticeable irritation in her voice.

Camille appeared calm as she spoke, “I’d imagine you might be a little...concerned...about working with her. Does Donaldson know about your relationship with her and the problems between you and Tim?”

“I don’t know. It’s never been a topic of

discussion. It was a long time ago and I’ve gotten over it,” Brodie answered, her voice beginning to show her annoyance with the conversation.

“Have you?”

Standing abruptly, she glared at Camille. “Yes, I have, goddammit! And I don’t need you to remind me of it again. You may have been my shrink eight years ago, but I don’t need you crawlin’ around inside my fuckin’ head now!”

“Is that why you called out her name in your sleep after we made love last night?” Camille asked. The question stunned Brodie. The hurt she saw in Camille’s eyes was obvious. She had no answer and left the room.

As she left the kitchen, she felt the beginnings of a migraine start to pound in her temples.
I haven’t even
seen her yet and already the shit starts
, she thought. She shut herself in the bathroom to splash cold water on her face and calm down. By the time she reemerged Camille was gone.

A LIGHT DRIZZLE fell from heavy gray skies Monday morning as Brodie walked into the squad room. Somehow the weather seemed perfect for her mood. Her anticipated weekend with Camille had ended abruptly in less than stellar fashion, and she had spent most of Sunday alone, ridding herself of a fucking migraine. She glanced around the room as she brushed wet spots from the arms of her jacket. The fluorescent lighting cast a pale yellow tint over everything in the room, but it wasn’t a cheerful yellow. Nicholls’ jacket hung from the back of his chair and other officers were beginning to filter in for the day. She saw light behind the blinds of Donaldson’s office. Taking a deep breath, she strode to his door and knocked.

“It’s open,” his gruff voice rumbled.

Donaldson had already begun plowing through a stack of paperwork on his desk. He leaned back in his chair when he saw her head and looked at his watch.

“You’re in early, Brodie,” he said. “Got a big day planned?”

“Just running down some leads, Cap, but I needed to ask you a question.”

“Shoot.”

Stepping toward his desk, she placed Maggie Weston’s personnel folder in front of him. He glanced at the folder and back at her.

“Did you read it?” he asked.

“Yes. Her qualifications seem above average.”

“So what’s your question?”

“Does Detective Weston know I’ll be her training officer?”

Donaldson leaned back in his chair. “Yes, she does. She told me there had been a problem between you and her old man a few years back, but didn’t go into any details.”

“It could be a problem, Fred.” As much as she hated having her personal life become a part of her work, she knew she owed it to the man who had taken a chance by hiring her to be honest. Clearing her throat, she couldn’t think of a way to make what she was going to say less potentially damaging. “The problems I had with Commander Weston were

because of her. She and I, we were…um…personally involved at the time.” Looking down at her hands she didn’t know what else she could say that wouldn’t make it worse. “You took a chance on me, Fred. I thought I owed you the truth.”

Donaldson leaned farther back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head, staring at the ceiling for a few moments before dropping his eyes to her.“I appreciate your honesty, Brodie. I know that wasn’t easy for you. But I also know you’re the best I have in this department. Can you put whatever happened eight years ago behind you and train Weston effectively?”

“I think so.”

“Then I’m leaving you as her FTO for now. If you feel, later, that it isn’t working out, for whatever reason, I want you to come to me. Understand?”

She nodded and stood to leave the office. “Thank you, Captain.”

“And Brodie,” Donaldson said.

She turned her head toward Donaldson with a questioning look.

“I made the coffee this morning, so you better grab a cup before it’s all gone,” he grinned.

“MORNING,” NICHOLLS SAID as Brodie picked

up her coffee cup. “Your trainee’s here.”

Suddenly the promise of decent coffee lost its appeal. “Where?”

“I left her back in booking. I guess Levinson’s giving her the grand tour of our state-of-the-art facilities,” he shrugged.

“What’s your first impression?” she asked as she leaned a hip against her desk.

“I wouldn’t kick her out of bed.”

Brodie was pouring coffee into her cup when she saw Maggie Weston walk into the squad room accompanied by the jailer, Sergeant Levinson. He was bending her ear about something and she was struggling to look interested in whatever he was telling her. Her five-six body looked exactly the way Brodie remembered, although her auburn hair was now shoulder length and brushed behind her ears. Most regrettably for her, she found the older, more mature Maggie even more annoyingly attractive than the woman she had known eight years before. She was wearing a white Oxford shirt tucked neatly into khaki slacks that rested easily on her hips. Brodie could see her service revolver under her brown tweed jacket as she crossed her arms in front of her and nodded to Levinson. Her smile seemed to waver perceptively as she glanced around the squad room and saw Royce Brodie watching her. Unfolding her arms, she touched Levinson on the shoulder, giving him a dazzling smile as she spoke to him briefly before walking toward Brodie’s desk. She was wearing very little make-up and Brodie noticed there was no polish on her fingernails and no jewelry adorned her fingers. MAGGIE HAD SPENT the last three days getting settled into her new home in Cedar Springs, emotionally fluctuating between excitement over beginning the next step in her career and more than a little trepidation over the idea of facing the glare she knew she would see in Royce Brodie’s eyes. It had been years since Maggie had last seen her, but she had no doubt the older woman would be less than thrilled to have her as a trainee, possibly even hostile, considering the angry words that had passed between them the last time they had been together. Brodie’s feet seemed to be glued to the floor as she watched Maggie make her way across the squad room toward her. Each time she blinked another slide from her memory bank flashed behind her eyes. The defiance in Maggie’s eyes the first time she saw her. The teasing half smile at the corners of her mouth that promised so much. Her musical laughter. Her surprisingly aggressive passion mixed with innocent tenderness. The memory of everything Brodie had found irresistible.

“Lieutenant Brodie. It’s good to see you again,”

Maggie said as she extended her hand.

Brodie hesitated before taking Maggie’s hand, forcing herself to look at her former lover. She should have been drawn to the expressive hazel eyes, but the faded scar on Maggie’s forehead was the first thing she saw. Dropping her eyes to avoid seeing the reminder of their volatile last meeting, she accepted Maggie’s hand. The firmness of her trainee’s grasp brought her back to the present, shutting down memories of what had been. Clearing her throat she said, “I guess Nicholls has shown you everything there is to see around here.”

“Yes, Curtis has been very helpful,” Maggie said with a smile at Nicholls.

“Curtis?” Brodie repeated, looking at him.

“You two already know each other?” he asked, ignoring Brodie’s question.

“Lieutenant Brodie was with the Austin PD when I was a rookie,” Maggie answered, relieving Brodie of thinking up a quick response.

“Ever work together before?”

Maggie glanced briefly at her before answering,

“No, we never worked together.”

Brodie pushed herself away from her desk and looked around the squad room.

“Help me move a desk over here for Weston.”

They managed to wrestle an old wooden desk against the sides of their desks, placing Maggie between them. Brodie picked up the phone from her desk and set it in front of Maggie with a thud.

“One of your duties will be answering the phone,”

she said, clearing her throat again, working hard to achieve a middle ground between blatant hostility and don’t-give-a-shit.

“RB hates phones,” Nicholls explained as he returned to his paperwork.

He no sooner finished his explanation than the telephone rang and Maggie looked at Brodie.

“Just pick it up and say Cedar Springs Police Department, Detective Weston speaking,” Brodie instructed as she sat in the old wooden rolling chair behind her desk.

Maggie did as she was told and listened to the voice on the other end carefully. Brodie picked up a stack of stolen vehicle reports from her desk and began the boring and tedious task of thumbing through them looking for a Mercedes-Benz. Suddenly Maggie’s hand reached in front of her as she grabbed a notepad and a pen and began writing. Brodie caught a faint but familiar scent of vanilla wafting from her trainee and inhaled it deeply.

“Which building? Secure the area and don’t touch anything. We’ll be there in fifteen,” Brodie heard her say before she hung up the phone.

“Well?” she asked.

“There’s been a homicide at the university,”

Maggie answered without looking at her.

“How do they know it was a homicide?” Nicholls asked.

“They only found the victim’s head. The

responding officers seemed pretty certain it didn’t part with the rest of the body voluntarily,” she responded.

The two veteran detectives were on their feet before their trainee could finish her sentence.

“Uniforms already there?” Brodie asked over her shoulder as she and Nicholls walked briskly toward the front door.

“Yes,” Maggie replied as she trotted to keep up.

“They have the biology lab cordoned off.”

THE DRIVE TO the campus of the University of the Southwest was short and, as far as Brodie was concerned, blessedly devoid of needless, inane small talk. Once or twice she caught a brief glimpse of Maggie in the rearview mirror and looked away when Maggie seemed to be looking back. The morning drizzle had stopped by the time they arrived at the university. A patrol officer directed them toward the Biology Building, one of three four-story buildings that formed the Science Quadrangle. She parked their car near the front entrance of the building and got further directions to the crime scene from two officers guarding the front doors of the building. They took the stairs to the second floor two at a time. As soon as they reached the second floor hallway Brodie paused, stopping Maggie as she joined them.